Things Best Left Unsaid
by McGonagal'sCat
Summary: After Hermione marries Ron, she slips into the garden during their wedding reception for a moment of privacy but finds unexpected company from Remus Lupin. A quiet moment between the pair leads to thoughts and feelings that could change everything for the young Gryffindor. But is it too little, too late? AU from DH.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Forgive me for not working on 'A Different kind of magic' and for writing this Remione fic in its place. I'm just a sucker for these two. They're such a joy to write. As always, any familiar settings, plots, or characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, I'm just messing around a bit :) Fair warning, there is some Weasley bashing ahead. Turn back now if that's a deal breaker. Oh, yes, in this story, Tonks never existed. Enjoy :)**

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 _"He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking."_

 _\- Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina_

Her feet were aching in her high heels.

Her head was pounding from the multitude of bobby pins poking painfully into her scalp, holding her elaborate mountain of curls in place. It turns out that even magic has its limits, especially when faced with the unruly, terrifying nest of curls that she called her hair.

Her wedding gown, a shoulder-bearing, beaded bodice, with a snug empire waist, pinched painfully at her sides.

She sighed as yet another distant Weasley cousin, attempted to pull her in for more inane conversation. She politely demurred and quickly and quietly slipped out unnoticed from the large reception tent. Leaving behind the boisterous noise and music and multitude of family and friends, she breathed in the cooler night air and finally felt her body relax for the first time that day. She was alone and it felt positively marvelous to have a bit of space.

Down a sloping stone path lay the quiet, serene garden, and its siren call was one she could not resist. Gingerly wading through the clover and ivy that dabbled the hillside adjacent to the Burrow, she wended her way to a stone bench at the edge of the garden. Finally sitting down atop the cool stone, a small smile graced her pink lips as she reveled in a bit of quiet and admired the night sky, full of breathtaking stars.

She brought up the long, flowing hem of her gown and pulled off each of her ridiculous heels and let out a sigh as the offending shoes plopped in the downy, soft grass.

Pressing her thumbs deep into the tight arches of her feet she sighed and softly said to herself, "Ah, that's better."

"Trying to hide out, Mrs. Weasley?", came a deep, comforting voice from behind her.

Startled at the sudden noise, she dropped the hem of her gown and turned quickly to see Remus smiling at her, leaning against a nearby tree that was cloaked in shadows.

"Oh, Remus, you startled me," she kindly admonished, eyeing her good friend and work colleague with a warm smirk.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to," he said with a smile as he walked across the mossy grass towards her.

Dressed in an elegant, charcoal gray suit that seemed to only heighten the soft grey of his wise, kind eyes, he offered a warm, friendly smile as he nursed a glass of champagne and came to a stop before the blushing bride.

"It's quite alright, I just needed a bit of fresh air," she said. "That tent is so full of people, I was starting to feel a bit warm. I thought no one would be out here," she sheepishly admitted.

"Sorry to intrude on your reprieve. I'll leave and give you some privacy," he offered kindly as he turned to go back into the reception.

"Oh, don't be silly," she said as he reached forward to grab his hand and stop him. "I'd love your company, stay with me," she kindly asked, smiling and still holding her good friend's hand.

"Very well, if you insist," he said with a warm smile as she scooted over to make room on the stone bench for him.

Since the war ended one year ago, Hermione's life had taken a few unexpeceted twists. Although she had expressed sincere reservations about entering into a serious relationship with her good friend, she had started dating Ron right away and he proposed just before Christmas. Although their engagement was joyfully received by all their friends, and by Ron's family especially, Hermione had been surprised at just how fast things seemed to have progressed. She could scarcely believe that they had dated only a few short months before deciding to wed. But at the time it had felt like the right thing to do, at least she thought so. Everyone was settling down and in truth, Ron was the only man who had ever shown any interest in her. He was a decent, committed man, what more could she ask for? What more could she really expect? Sure, they fought often and heatedly, and seemed to hold different interests and views of the world, but sometimes opposites attracted and balanced eachother out. At least, that was what she frequently told herself.

Professionally speaking, she felt far more confidant and secure in her decisions and achievements. She, in fact, felt well and truly proud of the work she was doing and derived a great deal of joy from her job. While Ron and Harry had become aurors, she, along with Remus, had joined the Ministry's Department of Magical Legislation. Together the pair work tirelessly on new laws to ensure, among many things, a new wave of progressive legislation designed to give all members of the wizarding community equal access to jobs and benefits which had previously been reserved for only full-blooded witches and wizards. First came workers' rights for elves and equal wage guarantees, followed by formal land rights for Giants and Centaurs. Equal wizarding rights for muggle-borns also came into being under their watch, for which Hermione was immensely proud. After a long year of hard work, they were widely lauded by many for helping to usher in a new era of cooperation and equality, something that had indeed felt impossible just a few short years ago.

The biggest legislation they helped enact was the reclassification of werewolves and other 'half-breeds' as full-fledged members of wizarding society. This move away from the earlier, discriminatory classification helped ensure equal pay and marriage benefits to all lycanthropes, which had previously been non-existent. They also managed to pass fair-hiring practices to allow more lycanthropes to gain steady employment, which was a true godsend to so many lycanthropes who had struggled to live under the crushing weight of poverty. They also saw to it that the ministry would provide monthly wolfsbaine free of charge to all who needed it, thus greatly improving the quality of life for so many who, like Remus, had largely suffered in silence.

As Harry and Ron worked late nights in law enforcement, Remus and Hermione put in countless hours of their own and they grew closer as they helped create the new laws that were shaping the wizarding world for the better. It was work that she had never expected to find and she found it immensly satisfying to be a part of something so worthwhile. Especially with her dear friend by her side.

Smiling at him now, she silently marveled at how close their friendship had grown over this past year. She could hardly remember a time now when she didn't count him among her closest of friends.

Settled beside her, he smiled wistfully at her as his eyes swept across her face.

"Well, well... _Mrs. Ronald Weasley_. It has a lovely ring to it," he said with warmth in his smooth voice.

"Indeed, too bad that isn't my name," she said with a wry smile.

"I'm sorry?", he asked looking genuinely confused. "Did you just obliviate me because I could've sworn I just saw you marry that young red-head in there. You haven't gone and married some other gentleman while I was out here staring at the stars, have you? Imagine what the _Daily Prohet_ will say," he said with a grin.

"No, your memory is unaltered, rest assured," she said with a grin. "I know it's against wizarding tradition, but I'm not taking Ron's last name. I've decided to keep my maiden name, despite strong protests from a few of my new family members," she said, casting a side ways glance towards the raucous tent behind her.

"Ah, from Molly I presume?", he astutely observed.

"That'd be the one, yes. She's been giving me quite a hard time about it, going on and on about how wonderful the Weasley name is and how I'm taking a ridiculous stance on this," she said with a slight eye roll.

"That sounds like something Molly would say. Sorry she's giving you such a hard time," he said with a sweet smile.

"It's fine, really," she said, waving off his concern.

"Well, then, _Miss Granger_ , are you enjoying your big day?"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course," she offered a bit too forced, her smile tight.

He gave her a dubious look.

"You sure about that? That's your final answer?", he questioned with a quirked eyebrow.

"I'm just...well...I'm actually a bit exhausted," she admitted, her shoulders sagging slightly.

"Yes, weddings can be stressful. It's been quite a day for you, I'm sure you are tuckered out," he offered, his gray eyes shining with understanding, just as always.

"It's actually been a stressful few months, to be honest. What with work and planning, and everything. Molly and Ginny have been bustling around here like banshees and keeping me quite busy, too. They've had me decorating, cleaning, dieting...," she trailed off.

"Wait, hold on a second...you've been dieting?", he asked, looking perplexed as to why the healthy and beautiful young lady before him would be trying to lose weight.

"Oh, well, I'm mean..well, yes, just a little," she bashfully admitted.

"Whatever for?!", he asked, looking genuinely appalled.

"Oh, it was Molly's idea. When we went wedding dress shopping right after Christmas...all the samples were too tight. And Molly kept saying how Fleur and Ginny had been so much easier to fit for their weddings given their petite sizes. She heavily _implied_ I could stand to lose a few pounds, especially if I wanted to look my best for Ron," Hermione admitted, looking a bit embarrassed.

Remus stared with his mouth agape at the admission. He had noticed her losing weight over the last several months but had assumed it was due to stress and exhaustion, not from an intentional plan to lose weight. He felt his temper flare at the idea that she had been shamed into doing this, especially when she had looked so lovely to begin with.

"What absolute horseshit!", he finally said, looking outraged and angry on her behalf.

At this, Hermione burst out laughing. In the seven years she had known Remus, she couldn't recall a single time he had ever uttered such an expletive. For some reason, it tickled her far more than it should have.

The sight of her laughing did nothing to temper his sudden vitriol towards Molly, who he gladly would've hexed at that very moment if it wouldn't have caused a ruckus.

"This is not funny! How dare that cow lecture you on your body and tell you to lose weight! The nerve of that woman! You're perfectly beautiful, every which way, Hermione," he offered earnestly.

She smiled and blushed at his words, as she patted her good friend's hand.

"Remus, you're a very sweet man, but really, it's fine. After the war ended, I gained some weight and Molly was right. I needed to lose it, and I look better for it. Even Ron said so."

"You've got to be kidding me?", he asked, looking completely gobsmacked.

"Yes, he told me yesterday. Said he was _so proud of me_ for dropping the weight and how much better I look now," she said, a slight bitterness creeping into her voice.

"Well, I one for think you are lovely, now matter your weight," Remus said, looking away, and shoving his hands deep in his pockets. "You have a beauty that transcends such silliness. You're a helluva of a lot more than a number or a size, Hermione. You're exquisite, you know," he said sincerely.

"Thank you," she said softy, struck by his thoughtful words.

He stared off into the night sky, his arms crossed tight in annoyance.

She took in the way his jaw clenched tight, just like it always did at work when they encountered difficulty in passing werewolf rights' legislation or when some pigheaded bigot had slighted him for his lycanthrope. Remus had so much heart, he cared so deeply and truly for those around him. It angered him to no end to see others hurt, as if he could feel their pain as well. His unwavering heart was one of things she admired most about him.

She slid across the bench and effortlessly hooked her arm in his. Pulling him in toward her, she nudged him affectionately with her shoulder as he looked down at her, his face still set with annoyance.

"Don't be angry," she said softly, with a smile. "Not on my behalf."

His face softened at her words, his hand gently covering her own.

"I don't like anyone treating you that way. Especially not your new family. You're worth more than that," he said, adamantly, his anger still right at the surface.

"It's okay, Remus. I'm really alright."

"Yes, but this is your day, it should be magical and lovely and perfect in every singe way, damnit."

"Oh, it's been fine, really," she reassured him. But he could tell by her tired eyes and weary posture this day had, in fact, not been amazing, at least not as spectacular as she deserved.

"Fine is simply not good enough. Not for you, not today," he said firmly.

He pulled his wand from suit jacket and abruptly stood up, and said, "Stay put. I'll be back in one minute."

Striding purposefully to the tent, he stopped and stood just outside the opening, careful not to be seen by the guests within. Peering in the tent and looking around, his eyes finally fell on his target. Stealthily pointing his wand into the tent and murmuring a quiet incantation, Hermione knew he was summoning something but wasn't sure quite what.

A moment later, two luscious, chocolate covered eclairs, floated out through the tent and into his waiting hands. Quickly pocketing his wand and walking back to join Hermione, he offered her one of the delicious treats with a smile as he sat down once more beside her.

"For you, my lady."

She smiled as she eyed the treat in her hand with delight apparent in her eyes. She hadn't had a single treat in close to five months and this temptation looked divine.

She licked her lips and brought the pastry to her mouth and as her lips closed around the flaky crust and felt the rich, sweet chocolate on her tongue, her eyes closed as pure joy spread across her face.

Quickly taking bite after luscious bite, she moaned in pleasure at the delicious taste, which in turn caused her companion to chuckle.

"That good, eh?", he asked with a smile.

"Oh, Remus, you have no idea," she uttered, her eyes closed in pure bliss.

As she polished off the delectable treat, she noticed his eclair sat untouched on a napkin beside him.

"Why aren't you eating?", she asked.

"I think watching you enjoy yours is far more satisfying," he said, his lips quirked up into a lovely smile.

"Well, thank you. That was positively amazing," she softly said as she licked her fingers clean and she caught his eyes.

He smiled at her now and she noticed his eyes dipped ever so briefly to her lips.

"Do I have something in my face?", she asked.

He bit his lip and smiled and gave a small nod.

"Oh gods! Where? Molly will kill me if I've ruined my makeup before the pictures! Fix it, will you?", she pleaded.

He scooted forward and gently took her her chin in his hands, and grabbed a small napkin and dipped the edge in a small glass of sparking water.

He slowly and carefully wiped the edge of the cloth around her lips, careful to wipe away the chocolate and yet leave her lipstick perfectly in place. She watched as his eyes stayed locked on her mouth, his gaze concentrated on the task at hand.

"All better now," he said with a smile, his face only a few inches from her own.

But as he made to pull his hand away, she clasped it and uttered a soft, "Thank you."

He swallowed thickly and pulled his soft hand away, scooting several inches down the bench, his eyes downcast.

She couldn't help but notice the move and hoped she hadn't made him uncomfortable in some way.

"Are you alright, Remus?"

"Oh, yes of course," he said quickly. "Would you care for another eclair?", he kindly asked.

"No, I'm stuffed now. That truly was the most amazing treat I've ever had. Thank you for sneaking it for me," she said with a sweet smile.

"Oh, I'm sure you've had better. Sometimes things taste sweeter when you haven't had them in a while," he noted, resting his hands on the bench, stretching his long legs out before him.

"No, I'm pretty sure that one was the best," she offered sincerely.

She smiled a bit sadly as her eyes swept across the garden.

"Are you sure you're alright?", he asked once more. "You seem a bit...unhappy."

"I'm just feeling a bit out of sorts today," she admitted as her hands brushed away a few stray crumbs from her gown.

"Something in particular on your mind?", he inquired, watching her closely.

"I don't know. It's hard to explain, but you're right, I'm actually feeling a bit sad today for some reason. You know, on the rare occasion when I did daydream about my wedding, this isn't what I thought it would be like," she said, looking at him.

"No?"

She shook her head.

"I always thought I'd get married in a small church or a garden, with just my husband and I. It seemed terribly romantic, just the two of us, sharing something that no one else would get to see or have," she said, her voice dropping a touch as the happy facade she had been presenting all day, fell to the wayside.

"I know that must sound silly, but I never wanted all the fanfare. All this, was mostly for Molly's sake. She was so upset after losing Fred. Getting to plan this gave her some joy and purpose and I'm glad I could give it to her but...", she paused, looking uncertain and disappointed.

"But it wasn't what you wanted?", he noted, taking her small hand in his own.

"No. It wasn't. I'm sorry I must sound a terrible ingrate for saying that," she said, looking contrite.

"Not at all," he said, his thumb tracing slow, soft circles along her delicate fingers. "I've always known you to go out of your way to show everyone in your life how much you appreciate them...and love them. You couldn't be an ingrate if you tried," he offered earnestly.

"You've always thought too highly of me, Remus."

"I could never compliment you enough, dearest. You deserve all my praise and so much more."

 _Such a kind, gentle soul,_ she thought. She feet truly unworthy of his praise and attention.

"Although I must say, I am a bit disappointed in you," he said with a faint frown.

"Why? What have I done?", she said, looking up at him with a worried look.

"You haven't danced with me yet," he said with a wry smile.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"My deepest apologies, sir. It was merely an oversight, I can assure you," she said, squeezing his hand.

"Well then, may I have the pleasure?", he asked standing before her and offering her his other hand.

"Always," she said softly, gladly taking his hand and being pulled to stand.

As he began leading her back up the hill towards the tent, she suddenly pulled his hand to stop his forward momentum.

"Remus...would it be alright, that is...would you mind if we danced out here?"

"You're ashamed be seen dancing with a decrepit, old man?", he asked with a smirk.

She offered a warm scowl in return.

"You know that isn't it and you are hardly old," she said, playfully smacking his chest.

"No, it's just that...I'm simply a bit tired of making the rounds with so many strangers. So many new family members, my head is spinning from trying to keep all the aunts, cousins and acquaintances straight. No, I'd rather be out here...with just you," she said sincerely. "That is, if you don't mind?"

He smiled warmly at her words and gave a single nod.

"I completely understand. I don't care for crowds myself."

Pulling her in with a flourished twirl, she softly laughed, at this. She hadn't danced with him since Bill and Fleur's wedding and had forgotten what a good dancer he was. As her body came to rest right against his, rather than reach for her hands, his hands slipped snug around her waist bringing her in closer than anyone had that night. It felt intimate but she gently reminded herself that this was her good friend holding her and she knew he meant nothing but friendly affection by it.

She relaxed against him, feeling perfectly at home.

Dancing slowly in the soft grass, the rich scent of peonies and jasmine swirling about them, soft music drifting down from the tent, Hermione breathed a deep sigh of relaxed contentment. She instinctively leaned her head against Remus' chest, as her hands gently clasped the back of his neck. Dancing bare foot in the moonlit garden with her old professor, who was now in all honesty, her closest friend, it all made her heart swell with unexpected joy. Remus was always like that, though, he always knew just how to bring a smile to her face and put her mind and heart at ease.

"Thank you, Remus. This is positively lovely," she said softy.

"My pleasure," he offered. She could hear the smile in his voice, feel the words vibrate through his chest.

"So, tell me," she asked, "how come an eligible, handsome bachelor like yourself came alone tonight?", lifting her head to meet his gaze. "I'm sure the ladies have been lining up to snag the...how did Rita Skeeter put it? 'The handsome, virile werewolf with a heart of pure gold?''", she asked with a grin.

Remus chuckled and blushed at the moniker that seemed to follow him since the war ended one year ago.

"Ah, yes, so many ladies queuing up to date me. Have to beat them away with a stick on a daily basis," he said with a smirk, his arms still wrapped tight around her.

"Oh, come now, everyone seems to be settling down, I'm sure there's a nice girl out there for you, too. Someone you fancy?", she asked, looking sincere.

His smile faded ever so slightly at this.

"There is...one young lady," he said softly, "who has caught my eye, but...sadly she's already taken."

Taking in his somber look, she immediately felt a fool for so callously questioning him, not realizing that this must be a painful subject for the man.

"Oh, Remus, I'm...I'm so sorry," she uttered, her eyes full of contrition. "I was just ribbing you a bit, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's alright, really. Sometimes love doesn't pan out," he admitted, looking up at the wedding tent.

"No, no it doesn't," she said sadly, looking down at her bare feet.

The silence seemed to hang there like an unwelcome guest. Taking in her discomfort he tried again to steer the conversation into smoother waters.

"You know, I'm sure I'm hardly the first to say this to you today, but you truly make a beautiful bride," he said, as his hand reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, his fingers caressing the skin for a long moment.

The touch sent shivers down her spine, as his hand slowly found its place once more on her waist, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Why, thank you, Remus," she blushed. In truth, many had complimented her that day, but none had done it with the same warmth and affection that Remus just had.

"The charms and hair creams certainly help," she quipped, trying to play off just how much his praise meant to her.

"Why do you always do that?", he asked, suddenly eyeing her a bit sadly.

"Do what?", she asked, looking puzzled.

"Constantly put yourself down? Measure your worth far below here it should be?"

"I don't do that," she answered back, looking uncertain.

"Yes, you do. All the time in fact. More and more as of late," he said with a sad shake of his head.

"It's a coping mechanism, I suppose," she admitted. "It's safer, you know, just to say all those things yourself rather than wait for everyone else to point them out."

"And what if I pointed out all the wonderful things about you? Would you believe them?", he asked, his body still swaying against hers, gently holding her.

"No, not from you," she smiled sadly.

"Why not from me?"

"Because you're simply too kind a person. You would sooner swallow your own tongue rather than hurt someone's feelings. You couldn't be rude to anyone if you tried," she said honestly.

He looked away then, his face betraying some hurt.

"I'm sorry if my kindness makes me appear less sincere. I can assure you, when I compliment you, Hermione, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I always have," he said sincerely.

"Oh, Remus, forgive me. I didn't mean to insult your integrity. I only meant to say that you have such a good heart, and you have a way of only seeing the best in people."

"So you do believe what I say?", he asked quirking an eyebrow in question.

"Usually, yes," she begrudgingly admitted.

"Then believe me now, you're beautiful, Hermione. You always have been. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you," he said.

"And just how do you see me?", she couldn't help but asking.

His eyes swept across her face and he was silent a moment before answering.

"It's hard to boil it down in words but...I guess...There's so just many little things I notice about you that make you beautiful to me. Things that I only seem to equate with you."

"The way the afternoon sun streams through your office window and it makes your hair look like spun gold."

"The way your delicate fingers wrap gently around a quill, even when you're writing furiously."

"The way you bite your bottom lip when you're deep in thought, the way you cross and uncross your legs when you're nervous."

"Your laugh, it's lovely and rich and comforting. It might very well be my favorite sound in the whole world. And how your voice goes a bit high when you're really excited about something..."he said with a smile, his hand reflexively moving a bit higher to rub at the bare skin of her back.

"You have a quiet, dignified grace about you, something that even women twice your age struggle to attain but it seems to shine from within you effortlessly. You're strong and capable, you're kind to a fault, and you bring out the very best in everyone around you. Everything about you is amazing. And all those things add up to make you truly beautiful, inside and out," he said softly.

She studied him then and could hardly comprehend all the things he saw in her. She swallowed hard at his words, ones he had uttered so easily. She felt her cheeks flush and her body tingle at the way he was holding her, clutching her so fiercely.

She looked away as she pulled herself from his arms, looking flustered.

"Please, Remus, stop," she said, as her eyes inexplicably filled with stinging tears and she turned away from him, putting several feet between her body and his.

"Stop what?", he asked, immediately relinquishing her but following behind her.

"I know what I am Remus," she said, arms crossed as she stared out into the field of wildflowers. "I have never been a bathing beauty. Smart, maybe. A good friend, certainly. But not beautiful. Not even today, all dolled up, makeup smeared on me like frosting on a cake. So, it's really alright. You don't need to stroke my ego or make up compliments, I can make due without them," she offered, feeling embarrassed and foolish for being condescended to.

"I'm not thirteen anymore, Remus. You don't have to coddle me with sugar-coated lies. It's not your job to make me feel any better about myself," she said, suddenly angry and confused by her mix of emotions.

"You think I'm just being polite, or generous? You really don't think me sincere, do you?", he said, looking equally anguished.

She remained silent, looking down and digging her toes deep in the red earth to keep herself from crying.

"You're stunning, Hermione, just you, as you are," he tried once more.

"Stunning?," she asked with a mirthless laugh. "No one has ever used that word to describe me, Remus. Not even my new husband," she said with anger in her eyes, her voice sharp.

"That's a damn shame, because you are," he said, coming to stand right next to her.

"You're brave and beautiful, the perfect lady if I've ever seen one. Ron is profoundly _lucky_ to have you," he said pointedly.

This was the fifth compliment he had bestowed upon her in as many minutes. And she couldn't help but wonder why. Why would be be showering her with compliments? And more importantly, why would he actually mean them?

"Why are you saying these things, Remus?", she questioned him sharply.

"Because they're true and you need to hear them. You deserve to hear them everyday and if your husband doesn't say them, someone else should," he said, bitterness creeping into his smooth voice.

"What makes you think Ron doesn't say them?", she asked, turning towards him, looking mildly vexed.

"I've seen you two together enough to know that he doesn't treat you the way you deserve," Remus answered honestly.

"You don't approve of Ron?", she carefully asked.

He swallowed hard but didn't look away.

"No, I don't," he said, his mouth set in a hard line.

"And why not?"

"He's not worthy of you. You deserve better than some smug, bumbling imbecile who tells you to lose weight, who puts you down and holds you back. You deserve a true partner and a friend. Someone who will love you for you, without trying to change you or reign you in. Each and every part of you is a wonder...Your smile, your eyes, your beautiful heart... your beautiful body. You deserve a real love who will tell you that everyday...not some consolation prize," he said, looking he square in the eye.

"Oh, really? And how do you know I don't have all those things with Ron?", she spat, her temper flaring.

"Because if you did, you'd be happier. You'd be overjoyed right now. You'd be inside that tent with him instead of out here with me," he noted with fire in his eyes and anger in his voice.

"You don't know what I'm feeling!", she snapped.

"Oh, really? That longing that won't go away? The empty pit in your stomach that seems to grown with each day rather than abate? That feeling when you're with him and it's like you're totally alone? The feeling that perhaps you've missed the most important moment in your life? I actually do know, Hermione. I know it all too well," he said harshly, towering over her, looking both anguished and torn apart.

"I'm going through a lot right now, Remus and it isn't as simple as pinning it all on Ron," she said angrily.

"No, no, it isn't that simple, but it's a big part," he said.

She shook her head, unwilling to acknowledge the terrifying doubt that was quickly rising in her chest.

"You really think you'll be happy with him? A year from now? Ten years from now?", he asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," she said weakly, her voice cracking with uncertainty. "For Christ' sake, yes!", she said a bit louder, her eyes betraying her fear and uncertainty. "This is my wedding day, I wouldn't have married him if I didn't think so," she said defensively.

"Honestly, Remus why are you saying all these things? Why do you even care?", she volleyed back, unsure of how or why this conversation had taken such a sharp turn for the worse.

"Why do I care?", he asked rhetorically. "Perhaps because you're my very best friend in the whole world and your happiness is quite important to me."

"I'm happy Remus, alright? As happy as I can be, so please just leave this alone," she said, turning further from him, her cheeks stained red from anger.

"As happy as you can be? That's really good enough for you?"

"It has to be," she said sadly, looking away once more, tears pricking her eyes.

He gently grabbed her arms and forced her to turn and meet his eyes.

"How can you say that? How can that possibly be enough?", he asked, disbelievingly.

"Life isn't a fairytale, Remus. Not everyone finds their soulmate. Some of us have to settle for finding someone who accepts us and cares for us. Sometimes that has to be enough," she said resignedly, looking away from him.

"What about fire and passion? You really think the heart can survive on such niceties?"

She hated how his words stung. How much truth they bore. She roughly pulled herself once more for his grasp. And turned her bottled up rage upon him.

"Like you're one to talk! The man who hasn't dated or had a steady girlfriend in ages. You really think you're in a position to give advice on matters of the heart?", she spat.

He winced and visibly tightened at her words.

"Better to be alone than with the wrong one," he said softly, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Well, let me give you some advice, _Professor_ ," she said venomously, "Grow up. You think all the couples in that tent are madly in love with eachother, let me assure you, they are not. If you wait for your perfect love to come along, you'll be waiting for a very long time...alone," she said bitterly.

He eyed her sadly then before drawing a deep, shaky breath.

"You can call me a fool, if you like. And I might very well be one, but maybe it's worth the wait. It's a risk I'm willing to take," he said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, finally looking away from her.

"Good luck with that. I'm going back inside," she said as she turned and strode away. Quickly grabbing her shoes from the grass, she began climbing the grassy hill at a good pace before she felt warm hands once more on her arm.

"Hermione, wait!", he pleaded grabbing ahold of her.

"I think we've talked enough for one night," she said acidly trying to pull free. But this time Remus wouldn't let go.

"No, please wait!", he begged.

Finally stopping and wiping around to face him, tears trickling down her reddened cheeks, she hissed, "Why!? Want to make me feel worse than I already do?"

"Of course not! I'm trying to...to just...", he tried, his voice dying in this throat.

"What!? What is it you're really trying to say, Remus?"

"I'm trying to say that you deserve more. And it kills me to see you settling for less," he finally uttered.

"Well, it's a bit late for that now, isn't it? Ron's all I've got," she said angrily.

"No. No, he isn't," he said back, still holding tight to her.

"Remus...I...I don't understand," she said looking unsure.

"What if you could have more? What if you could have real love? Isn't that what _you want_? What _we all want_?", he said pointedly.

"Remus, what are you...?"

"Hermione," he said, more softly this time, "I'm trying to tell you that, for a long time, I've felt something. Something I was so afraid to admit and accept for fear of what damage it would cause. What I'm about to say, will no doubt haunt me all my days but if I don't say it now, I don't think I ever will. I know I'm a right bastard for telling you this, especially now, but...what I'm trying to say..is that I'm...I'm deeply in ..."

"There you are!", called out Ron, suddenly exiting the tent. "Been looking everywhere for you, 'Mione," the youngest Weasley male said with a wide, easy grin.

Their heads snapped to attention as Ron strode easily down the stone path to their spot in the grassy clover. Although she had done nothing wrong, Hermione felt inexplicably guilty at having been caught in the garden with Remus.

"Oh, Ron, I'm sorry. I was just getting some fresh air...and Remus kindly joined me," Hermione said, forcing the smile on her face as she tried to cover the anger and confusion that shone bright in her kind eyes.

Taking in their dour expressions and their flushed faces, Ron looked at the pair slightly puzzled.

"You both alright? Everything okay?", Ron asked, looking a bit concerned as he wrapped a protective, possessive arm around Hermione's waist, eyeing Remus with an appraising look.

"Yes, yes, of course, just fine," Remus offered with a weak, forced smile.

Ron eyed the tall wizard with some wariness.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to steal my wife, Lupin," Ron said with a cocky smirk, as if the old werewolf ever had a chance with such an accomplished, young woman.

Remus smiled politely at the jab, but the smile don't reach his sad eyes.

"Oh, just making sure some strapping lad didn't sweep her off her feet while you weren't looking," Remus volleyed back, smiling at Ron but defiance danced in his eyes.

Ron smirked back.

"Thanks, Remus, good of you to watch out for that sort of thing," Ron offered with an air of condescension, as he started to pull Hermione back towards the tent.

"C'mon, 'Mione, time to cut the cake. You must be starving, dearest, you haven't had any sweets in months."

"I'm actually not hungry," she said softly, her heart and mind still whirling with confusion and agitation.

As Ron pulled her further and further from the garden, Hermione turned and uttered a soft, "Thank you for the dance, Remus."

"Anytime, Hermione," he softly replied.

"Congratulations, again." Remus uttered as the couple retreated back into the tent.

Ron didn't even turn at the words, but Hermione did. As their eyes locked, Remus looked down guilty and disapparated on the spot.

As they rejoined the wedding party to loud cheers and hoots, Ron smiled wide as he swept her around the dance floor once more. Hermione tried to relax in his arms but felt a distinct pang as Remus left, a ghost of his hands still lingering on her flesh.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: My profuse apologies for the delay on this. Just a quick reminder, this story will have only one more chapter after this. Thank you to everyone who has followed, faved and kindly reviewed this story. And lastly, thank you for shipping a couple I simply adore and for giving me a reason to write about them. You all are the best :)**

The rest of the reception was a blur. As guests offered the newlyweds kisses and warm congratulations, Hermione tried her level-best to remember to smile and be gracious to all of her new family members, but with each hand she shook and new name she learned, she found herself feeling more and more detached from the happiness around her. She honestly couldn't take any of it in.

With each moment that passed, she felt her heart grow heavy and numb, cold even, to the whole joyous affair. Not that Ron noticed her sudden withdrawal one single bit. Laughing and chatting away with every, single guest, he adored being the center of attention far too much to notice his new bride's waning mood. The hours ticked by both painfully slow and exceptionally quick and before Hermione knew it, guests began to slowly bid them good night and take their leave as the tent slowly, mercifully emptied.

As Hermione thanked Arthur and Molly once more for all the time and effort they poured into the reception, Hermione prepared to depart for her honeymoon. She felt confident that once she could take off this ridiculous dress and have some quality alone time Ron, some sweet peace and quiet with her husband after this dreadfully long day, she could feel herself once more and put to rest the worrisome feelings currently clouding her mind.

Her hopeful thoughts were immediately dashed, though, as she found Ron passed out at the head table, his head resting on a balled-up linen napkin, a small trail of drool puddling beneath his slack-jawed mouth.

"Ron?", she called out softly, while gently prodding his shoulder. But the newlywed simply slept on.

"Ronald!?", she called more sharply, but to no avail.

"Ah, looks like _Widdle_ _Ronnikens_ had a bit too much tonight, eh?", offered a smiling George who joined his new sister-in-law and eyed his baby brother with a good bit of amusement tinged with disgust.

"It would appear that way," Hermione sadly agreed. "How in the hell am I supposed to get him to our honeymoon suite now?", she asked looking both highly aggitated and thoroughly exhausted.

"Oh, not to worry, 'Mione. This isn't the first time this young gentlemen has been intoxicated. I've got you covered," George offered with a wink.

"Oy, Bill! Give us a hand, would ya?" George bellowed from across the tent to his older brother.

Together, George and Bill were able to hold Ron upright to transport him to the honeymoon suite in Barcelona via a port key. Hermione bid a quick good night to Mr. & Mrs. Weasley and Ginny and apparated moments after, just managing to wedge their several pieces of luggage under her arms without falling flat on her face.

Arriving in the honeymoon suite a few moments later, she saw George and Bill unceremoniously dump their baby brother onto the king-sized bed overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.

"Well, looks like our job here is done," said George with a smirk.

"Congratulations, Hermione! You sure did catch yourself a live one. You two don't go having too much fun tonight," George offered with an exaggerated wink.

"Welcome to the family, Hermione. Ron sure is lucky to have you," said Bill with a warm, sincere smile.

 _Lucky to have you._ She suddenly felt anything but.

Taking in the sight of her tight smile and sagging shoulders, George and Bill knew it was time to depart. They each gave their new sister-in-law a sweet peck on the cheek and off they apparated back to the Burrow, to leave the new couple in peace.

With Ron sprawled out across their wedding bed, face down, fast asleep still in his now-crumpled formal robes, Hermione dropped the luggage on the sofa. She sat down heavily upon a settee, still in her beaded gown and watched her new husband snore loudly.

With each breath he drew, his body grew more and more languid and relaxed, safe in the deep recesses of drunken slumber. As her eyes swept over his lax form, she felt anything but peaceful. Hermione's body and mind seemed to ignite with upspoken anxiety and fear. She was finally alone and rather than calming down, her mind sprung into a furious action, turning over her earlier conversation with Remus, over and over again, the words buzzing through her mind like a beehive suddenly cracked wide open.

 _What if you could have more?_

 _What if you could have a real love?_

 _A real love._

Her throat closed as tight as a sealed jar and she suddenly found it hard to breathe, the stuffy air of her luxurious suite felt hot and stifling, the creme-colored walls quickly closing in on her. Doubt and worry weighed upon her like a boulder, stealing away her breath, her confidence, her voice. That claustrophobic feeling, that she was irrevocably trapped without hope of escape, made her skin crawl and her mind seize with fear, she simply had to banish these thoughts.

Rising from the settee on heavy, shaky legs, she quickly yet quietly rushed out of the French doors and onto their spacious balcony overlooking the sea. Grabbing ahold of the railing, and hunched over, her stomach turned viciously with her meager dinner and her eyes watered from lack of sweet air.

Her eyes closed and head bowed, she focused on listening to the tide roll in. The fresh, salty hair brushing across her flushed cheeks and the steady crash of the powerful, distant waves grounded her to the here and now and she found her breath slowly returning. She sank down in a heap on a small chair on her balcony as she fought desperately to find her composure and steady her heart.

 _I'm married._

 _I'm married._

 _I'm married now._

 _I'm married to Ron,_ she chanted silently over and over again, rocking back and forth on a wrought iron chair. Her shaky hands wrapped tight around her bare arms trying to hold herself together as her skin felt clammy and goose-pimpled.

 _This is just nerves or...or jitters...this is going to pass. Yes, yes, deep breaths,_ she thought hopefully, trying to fight off the hysterical feeling that threatened to consume her like a wildfire from within.

But even in her panic-fueled state, her rational mind wouldn't accept the easy platitudes.

 _Don't jitters usually come before the wedding and not after?,_ her inner cynic helpfully piped up.

 _No_ , she said firmly, hopefully, _this is Ron, my Ron. This was meant to be._

 _Ron and Hermione, everyone says we make such a lovely couple._

 _Ronald Weasley, my husband. My friend...my good, good friend._

 _The friend who...who turned his back on me third year and then again in fourth, tossing cruel and thoughtless insults at me like empty candy wrappers without nary a worry as to how I might feel._

 _The good friend who shoved my nose in his sexual escapades with Lavendar in our sixth year, snogging that trollop around the castle whenever and wherever they could find a free moment._

 _The friend who abandoned Harry and I in the forest when we desperately needed him._

 _The friend who seems to belittle my work, my thoughts, my passions, even my body, every single, damn chance he gets._

 _Ronald Bilius Weasley,_ she thought now with not a small amount of bitterness. _The brave war hero, a defender of the light, a tireless civil servant, the man who could do no wrong._

But he had wronged her, in such subtle and small ways that it was hard for most anyone to really see it, including herself.

And yet Remus had seen. He saw her confidence wane and her spirits sag the longer she had been with Ron. Like a master sculptor chipping away at polished marble, Ron had taken his time and slowly broken her down, each insult and snide remark, leaving a mark on her spirit like a sharp chisel boring into soft, pliable stone.

 _The most eligible wizard in all of Great Britain and I'm the one that snagged him, didn't I? Lucky me,_ she thought angrily.

She felt bile rise in her throat at her caustic thoughts. She wanted to let go of all this bitterness and anger, send it out to sea with the tide and focus on all the good things that had brought them together. But these grievances, while they may have seemed bearable only a few hours ago, now seemed insufferable and they simply wouldn't budge. Remus' words had struck such a cord deep within her, resonating like clear sound waves across the silent, night air. Their talk had the unintended and devastating effect of trudging up every single doubt and insecurity she had been secretly burying for months and she could no longer bare to ignore them.

As hot tears spilled down her cheeks, she looked down at the new, thin gold band on her left hand as it glistened in the soft moonlight.

Her fingers were shaky as she gently touched the ring, carefully caressing the precious metal. For this was no ordinary muggle wedding band. This gold band had been forged by hand by the most-skilled goblin craftsman and had come from one of the last remaining gold mines in Morocco. It had been Arthur's great-great-great-grandmother's wedding band and it had been worn by four Weasley women, all of whom had long, seemingly happy marriages. In its ridges and curves, it held secrets and whispers of untold magic and love. Arthur had told her before the wedding that he had saved it especially for Ron to marry with. For this ring was foretold by their family to strengthen the aura of any witch who was lucky enough to receive it from a Weasley male and Arthur and Molly had wanted Hermione to have it.

Her mind drifted to her wedding ceremony, clearly recalling the vows she had spoken, echoing through her mind.

"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, pledge your honor and loyalty to the wizard before you who has claimed your heart?", asked the tall, gangly wedding officiant from the ministry.

For reasons she couldn't quite understand, her eyes had suddenly flickered away from Ron's and off to the right, just for a moment and caught sight of Remus, watching her from his seat next to Neville and Luna. His usual happy posture had been replaced with a quiet, serious look about him. His steely gray eyes held hers and she found she couldn't look away.

A slight squeeze of her hands brought her drifting gaze back to Ron. He raised his brow expectantly at his fiancé, as the assembled crowd waited with bated breath for her response.

Her mind snapping to attention, she smiled and said a rushed, "I do," nodding enthusiastically as much as to reassure herself as Ron.

As the magical bonds were invoked and placed across the golden ribbon that intertwined their clasped hands, Hermione felt an acute absence of magical energy. The magical bonds of wedlock were purported to be among the most potent of all bonds, effectively binding a witch and wizard to a lifebond of trust and fidelity. And yet, that moment had felt empty, not just lacking or weak in magical energy, but truly, profoundly hollow. She had chalked it up to nerves and excitement but now she wasn't so sure.

Sitting alone with these somber thoughts, her head spinning, her body shaking, she realized suddenly that she hadn't fully committed to these vows, for she hadn't really been thinking of Ron at all but rather of Remus. Her heart and soul had been pledged to another. Ron had never had her heart, not even for a minute.

As she traced the smooth gold, she felt absolutely nothing. Love, tenderness, passion, devotion, it was all absent from the ring. The ring that should have produced an immediate and powerful connection to her spouse was completely devoid of any type of magical bond. It was heavy and cold and inert, much like her foolish heart.

She swallowed hard at the sudden wave of nausea that swept over her as a cold sweat broke out across her skin. She rested her weary, spinning head in her hands as the terrifying realization hit her full-force.

Remus had been right.

She had settled.

She had taken the safe route and stuck with Ron because deep down, she had been afraid. Not afraid of being on her own but of living the rest of her life without love. She had thought that even the tepid love she shared with Ron was better than nothing at all.

But...did she really not love Ron at all? Did she in fact promise her heart to another? She was too distraught and confused to produce a suitable answer.

Uncertainty and fear and guilt gripped her heart tight, making clear, concise thought hard to manage.

Remus had come so close to saying it, saying the words that could've changed everything. But he didn't. Had Ron not arrived there when he had, would Remus have said it? Did he really feel anything stronger than friendly affection and concern for her?

Staring out into the starry night sky, she knew she couldn't rest or even function properly until she had a firm answer.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she stood and quietly went back into the suite. Without pausing to analyze what she was about to do, she grabbed her wand. Holding the smooth, vine wood in her hand gave her a small sense of courage and steadiness. Gripping it tight and casting one last glance at Ron, who was once-more slack-jawed and drooling onto the silk comforter, she focused her mind and silently apparated.

Landing a moment later along the rich, verdant Scottish countryside, a soft rain was falling. A small, stone cottage, surrounded by a garden sat alone on the hilltop. Ivy and jasmine grew intertwined along the stone edifice, an old bicycle rested against the front door and smoke wafted gently from the crooked chimney.

Hitching up the train of her dress and slipping off her heels once more, she began the arduous climb to the top of the hill, her wand in one hand and her shoes in the other.

As the rain began to pick up force and drench her hair and gown, her feet slipped over and over again in the wet, thick grass but she pressed on, determination clear on her face.

As she reached the front of the small cottage, she saw the flickering hearth through the window and approached the door.

Her heart pounded in her ears, she raised her hand to knock but just before it reached the wood, she felt doubt clutch her heart.

She was married less than six hours ago and now she was standing on another man's doorstep.

This was foolish.

Hell, given her current muddled thoughts, this was downright dangerous.

She suddenly panicked as she realized that she might be making an even bigger mistake by showing up here.

She lowered her hand, feeling defeated and shaken. She turned away from the door, her head bowed in shame. As she let the rain wash over her, she prepared to apparate and reluctantly return to her slumbering husband. But as she closed her eyes to cast the spell, she heard the door open behind her and turned at the light and warmth that poured from it.

"Hermione? What on earth are you doing here?", Remus asked, looking as equally stunned and confused as the unexpected, drenched visitor standing on his doorstep.

"I...I'm not sure," she stammered in response.

Remus seemed frozen for but a moment before he was able to take in the sudden turn of events.

"Gods, you're soaked through! Come in, for Merlin's sake!", he finally managed as he helped the drenched, young lady into his home.

As she entered the small, cozy cottage, Remus shut the door and blocked out the stormy night sky. The pair stood in awkward silence for a moment, as Remus stood beside her, an anguished, mournful look clear on his face.

Remembering his manners, he softly said, "Please have a seat please, I'll fetch you a towel."

Off he bustled down the small front hallway and darted into a side room, his quick steps across the creaky wooden floorboards perfectly echoing her wildly beating heart.

She stood beside the door, dripping a sizable puddle onto his doormat, feeling painfully out of place in his warm, lovely home. His worn leather couch, the crackling fireplace, flanked with near-to-bursting bookshelves, a mug of tea and a small bar of chocolate beside his wingback chair, a red, hand-knitted throw across it, an open book upon the coffee table; it all felt welcoming and warm, just like Remus himself.

She held tight to her wand and wet shoes in a vain attempt to keep her hands from jerking the door open and fleeing into the dark night.

He returned a moment later to find her still standing just inside his doorway, shaking slightly and clearly upset. He handed her a soft, warm, gray towel, stepping back several feet from her before their hands could touch. She carefully dropped the items in her hands into the floor and held the towel in her hands but made no move to dry herself off. Instead, she held it in her hands, her thumbs stroking circles on the soft fabric, her eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry to barge in like this," she admitted, chancing a glance at the man standing before her.

"It's no trouble, you know I...I love your company," he said with a regretful smile.

Sensing that she wasn't planning on using the towel anytime soon, he picked up his wand from his coffee table and cast a thorough drying charm on her. The magic that tingled her skin was gentle and careful, crafted by Remus to envelope her with great care. It flushed her skin with a beautiful warmth that soothed her frazzled nerves, if only slightly.

She offered a small smile at this and breathed out a soft, "Thank you."

Remus nodded, returning the slight smile.

The silence hung a moment, neither knowing just how or where to begin. As always, Remus settled for the safe, middle ground of polite courtesy.

"Would you care for some tea?", he asked, as he turned from her to head into his small kitchen to put the kettle on.

"No, thank you, Remus. I didn't come here tonight for tea," she said boldly.

"No...no I can't imagine you did," he said, stopping his progress and turning to reluctantly face her once more.

"I think we have more to discuss," she said softly, matter-of-factly, her eyes never straying from his.

"No, Hermione. You were right earlier, I think we've talked enough tonight," as he headed once more into the relative safety of his kitchen. Hermione heard the sink turn on and the dishes being washed.

She closed her eyes and summoned her courage, the vital attribute that had been, until this evening, on an extended break, and willed her bare feet to move forward. She crossed the small living room and approached the kitchen, and the occupant within, with purpose and determination. She had backed down for far too long and was finally strong enough, finally bold enough to stand her ground.

She found him rinsing a few tea cups, his shoulders bowed, his face turned away from her but she could see it reflected in the small kitchen window, and it was clear from the small frown and creased brow that he was desperately trying to put on a brave front.

"No, I need to know, Remus. If Ron hadn't walked up when he did this evening, I need to know what you were going to say to me."

He looked up from the sink and shook his head, resolute, eyes full of shame.

"It was nothing important, Hermione, really. I'm fine...and...and we're fine. So let's just leave it at that, alright? This was a good day and I'm so very happy for you," he offered with a weak smile.

"Are you really?", she asked critically.

"Absolutely," he said, smiling sadly, his heart stuck irrevocably on his sleeve.

"After what you said to me earlier, I can't really believe that," she said, stepping closer to him.

But Remus simply shook his head and tried to change the subject, shutting off the water and wiping his hands roughly on his slacks.

"Hermione, we just had a bit of a row. Sometimes friends fight, this is nothing to worry about. Believe me. Now you really should get going on your honeymoon, not talking here with me. I'm sure Ron is missing his new bride," he offered with a faint smile, trying to edge her out of the cozy kitchen and back towards the front door.

But Hermione wasn't budging an inch and merely blocked the exit.

"Ron's passed out drunk in our honeymoon suite, he won't be looking for me until well into tomorrow," she said bluntly, her arms crossed tight in defiance.

Remus' face fell at this news, sadness and anger pulling at his kind eyes. But hardly any surprise crossed his face.

"What were you going to say to me earlier?", she pressed on.

"Nothing, Hermione, please...please, just go. I don't...this isn't a good idea you being here," he said once more, looking increasingly agitated and worried, like a caged animal.

"Why isn't it a good idea?", she volleyed back.

"Because you're a married woman and you should be with your husband, not here with me."

She eyed him with some surprise at the sharp edge in his voice.

"Am I not safe here with you, Remus?", she asked, her eyes boring into his.

He looked taken aback by her words, the implication that she was somehow unsafe to be in his presence alone.

"Of course, you are, Hermione, I simply meant...I meant that you're Ron's wife now and being here on your wedding night is...probably not the best place for you to be."

She felt her temper rise and her heart ache for answers that didn't seem to be coming. Remus took this momentary pause as his chance to escape, or at least be set free from this line of unwanted questioning.

"You should really go, are you safe to apparate alone? You've been drinking and I don't want you to get hurt," he kindly asked, moving once more towards the front door.

But before he could brush past her, her arm shot out and blocked the small kitchen doorway.

"Forgive me, Remus, for this. It is not my intention to be rude, but I'm not going anywhere until you tell me," she said, bold as brass.

Remus merely sighed in defeat and after a moment's hesitation, he settled back against the weathered, green kitchen counter, a look of submission and damnation clear in his tired eyes.

He was quiet a long moment. Hermione didn't rush to fill the silence either. She just waited patiently.

"Hermione," he finally said, "what I had to say...it simply wouldn't make any difference. I had been drinking and feeling melancholy and I let that bleed into the happiest day of your life. Please, forgive me. I didn't mean to ruin your special day," he offered sincerely, arms crossed tight as he leaned against the counter and stared out his small kitchen window at the falling rain.

"Remus," she said softly, stepping forward to place a gentle hand on this arm, "you didn't ruin anything."

He smiled sadly at this and swallowed hard as his eyes met hers.

"You're my dearest friend, Remus."

"And you're mine," he offered earnestly.

"So, would you please tell me what you have to say."

"You know I can never refuse you anything, so please...please don't ask that of me," he begged, pulling free from her grasp once more, trying to break the invisible hold she seemed to have on him.

"Say it," she softly asked, inching towards him.

"No."

"Tell me," she implored, coming right before him.

"Hermione, please. If I say it, it will ruin your day and a whole lot more."

"I need to hear it."

He went to walk away, but she firmly pulled him to a stop, her small hands wrapping tight around his arms.

"Please. Please, Remus. Just say the words. I'm right here, it's just us...say it," she softly begged.

His last drop of control and reserve fell away as he looked deeply into her eyes. He leaned into her touch, afraid to break away, afraid to stay.

He sighed and forced the words out, the five simple little words he had been holding in, like a breath under the water.

"I'm in love with you," he whispered as his exquisite eyes held hers for a long moment and then his shameful gaze fell away from her beautiful face.

Knowing what he was going to say did not prepare her in the slightest to actually hear it. Coming from his pale pink lips, standing in his kitchen, in a wedding gown from a marriage to another man, Hermione felt dizzy and stunned, as if all the air had been suddenly squeezed out of the room. She slowly released his arms as she slumped against his kitchen sink, feeling positively spent.

"For how long?", she faintly asked, as she stared fixedly at a spot of peeling paint on a cabinet door.

He stepped away from her and he too leaned against the counter, his strong hands shoring up his weight.

"It's hard to say," he said honestly. "How can you know when your heart starts to beat for another?"

She wished she knew.

"I've loved you longer than I should have. Longer than I had any right to," he answered.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?", she asked, looking up at him, confusion and hurt plain on her face.

"Believe me, I know my timing is terrible," he uttered, looking down at her, "I wanted to say it, years ago. But the war was raging and you were so young and beautiful. I knew I didn't deserve you. So I made a bit of a bargain with myself; if we both survived the war I was going to tell you. And that day at Hogwarts, when Voldemort finally fell, I saw you enter the Great Hall, still standing and I've never known such a joy. I don't know if you remember but I came running to you, but just before I reached you, Ron stepped in and...and kissed you. And I well...I stepped aside," he admitted sadly.

"I cursed myself for my stupidity. To foolishly think I was the only one entranced by you. As if I could ever capture your heart," he said with a sad smile.

"I remember, Remus, I remember," she uttered softly. "I ran into the hall, looking for you and I spotted you helping Madam Pomfery with injured students. I had to see you too. You...you were going to tell me then?", she asked.

He nodded slowly, tears reddening his eyes.

"But when I saw you with Ron, you looked happy and contrary to how I've behaved today, I didn't want to ruin that for you. So now I've gone and mucked up your wedding day by telling you today. Some friend I turned out to be," he said with an angry, remorseful shake of his head.

"Remus, please don't be upset," she begged, instinctively wanting to ease his pain. She stepped closer to try and clasp his hand but he only shrunk from her comforting touch.

"No, please, Hermione, you don't need to console me. I'm a horrible a coward and a selfish one at that. I wanted you to know how I felt but I also wanted the safety of knowing you would never have any real choice in the matter. You see, I don't think I could bare to hear you turn me away, because you've always accepted me. You knew what I was in your third year, knew what a horrible monster I was and yet you were never disgusted by me, never turned away from me, you kept my secret. You're one of the very few in my long life who have, in fact. And that's been a gift, one that I've cherished ever since your third year in school. It's meant the world to me, Hermione," he offered earnestly.

"I don't know what to say," she honestly answered, feeling like her whole world had been flipped on its ear.

"Yes, well, that's understandable. It's not everyday someone lays their heart at your feet," he said sadly, his cheeks flushed, looking ashamed and embarrassed at his behavior. He wearily pulled himself upright and said quietly, "You really should go now."

He turned away from her and strode wordlessly from the kitchen and crossed the small living room in a few strides. He reached the front door and paused before it for just a second before pulling it open in one fluid movement. The gusty rain immediately swept in, adding a distinct chill to the small cozy house. But he held it open,waiting for her to leave and ease his regretful heart.

Eyeing her dearest friend and the storm brewing through the open doorway, Hermione found herself rooted to the kitchen floor, seemingly incapable of moving.

"What if I don't want to go?", she asked, suddenly fearful and uncertain at the path she was supposed to follow.

"Hermione, you need to," he said firmly, still holding the door open. His face may have looked resolute but his eyes betrayed a small glimmer of hope that sprung forth at her simple question.

"What if I like being here with you?", she honestly asked.

"Hermione, no, this isn't...this can't be fixed. It's too late, don't you see? I blew it, I lost my chance."

"What if you had told me that day?", she asked, finally finding her equilibrium and slowly walking towards him.

"What if you had reached me before Ron? What then?", she questioned, now standing right before him.

"Hermione, it's too late now," he answered softy, his handsome, scarred face marred with doubt and anguish.

"Maybe it isn't," she said with a small, hopeful smile, reaching forward to clasp his free hand. Thier fingers slipped together like two halves to a whole and it felt right.

"What are you saying?", he asked disbelievingly, his eyes wide with uncertainty as he looked down at her sweet fingers entwined so perfectly with his own.

"I'm saying...tell me now. Tell me all of it, as if Ron had never came and kissed me that day. Tell me now," she simply asked.

"What difference would it make now?", he asked.

"It might make all the difference in the world."

The rain poured in through the open door, soaking the curtains, the rug and them both. The wind gently whipped her curly tendrils, framing her face with soft, shiny strands. A single crack of lighting illuminated the black, night sky. But she stood there, beautiful and brave and perfect. And finally, for one incredible moment, Remus Lupin was brave and said the words he had held deep in his soul for far too long. The words he had whispered into his pillow each night as he fell asleep, the words he kept locked away out of fear and self-loathing. The only words that could ever set him free.

"I would have told you," he softly uttered, "what a wonderful woman you are, because I fear this is something you don't hear nearly enough. I would've told you how every single part of you is a miracle in and of itself, but when you add up all those pieces that make you up, it simply takes my breath away. Your fearless heart, your generosity, your unwavering sense of loyalty, your stunning eyes, the way your lips quirk into the most stunning smile I've ever seen, the freckles across your nose, the light and joy in your eyes...all those things add up to make you the most incredible person I've ever known."

"And I would've told you that I love you. Purely, honestly, absolutely. Any good thing in me only exists because I've known you. That I've loved you in a thousand different ways and in a thousand different lifetimes. I love you more than anyone has a right to love anyone on this earth. I feel it, in my bones...in my very soul, that you were meant to be mine, and I was meant to be yours."

"That's what I would've said," he finished, his hand reaching up to gently cup her face, his eyes a warmer shade of gray, his body mere inches from hers.

Any lingering doubt, any worry or concerns were banished with his words. She listened to her own heart for once and gave in.

Tilting her head up, she brushed her lips against his with a faint, soft touch. For as light and gentle as it was, she felt immediate fire and passion rush through her body. She reached up to pull him closer but Remus broke the kiss and reluctantly pulled away, her body raging against the separation.

"Hermione, we can't," he said with a pitiful look, backing away from her.

"Remus," she breathed, the name rolling from her lips like honey pouring from a comb.

"You're married to Ron. You know as well as I do, the marriage bonds you've promised will cause you immense pain and grief if they are broken. Please, I don't want any harm to come to you. So, just go."

He stepped around her and began to walk down the hall, leaving the young bride to show herself out. He heard the front door shut and stopped in the hallway, feeling his breath all but stop at the crushing sound. He leaned against the wall for support.

"Remus," Hermione called and he immediately turned, equally surprised and worried to see her still standing there.

Her eyes never straying from his, she used her right hand to gently pull the wedding ring from her left hand. In a single, fluid move it was removed and she set it down with a gentle clatter on his hallway table.

Remus stared wide-eyed at the action. A magical wedding ring could only be removed from a witch or wizard once a marriage bond was dissolved and that type of magic could only be accomplished by a select, powerful few. What she had just effortlessly accomplished had been essentially impossible.

"How...how did you do that?", he asked breathless.

"When the officiant asked me...when he asked if I would pledge my heart to the wizard before me, I wasn't thinking of Ron. I was think of you. So you see, I was never Ron's to begin with," she uttered softly.

"Please...don't you see? I'm already yours. Won't you please be mine?", she bravely asked.

How, just how in the name of all that was sacred could he deny her? Or continue to deny himself for that matter?

He no longer had the answers to these questions and quite frankly, no longer cared.

Remus wasn't sure who reached who first, he didn't know how her lips suddenly met his own with a beautiful, bright fire or how in the hell this exquisite woman found her way into his undeserving arms at all.

But he knew one thing for certain, she was finally there.

Living, breathing, beautiful flesh, no longer a dream or a fantasy. But real, warm and soft, holding him close with a passionate, tender love, one he could barely comprehend.

She was here, she was his and suddenly nothing else mattered.


End file.
